


Ordinary People Drabbles

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Series: Drabble Posts [7]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Beware of Feels, Drabble Collection, F/M, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A set of drabbles and ficlets attached to the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/30792">Ordinary People</a> 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Various scenes and moments from before, after, and during Bird on a Wire. Updated as the whim strikes me.

**Domesticity meme**  
#this verse involves corgis  
#lots of corgis 

This is not the life that Kise Ryouta once thought he would have, not by a long shot, though it must be said that his expectations were fairly vague ones, all of them pending on Aominecchi's many and varied personality potholes. And maybe that was the problem; it's hard to plan a future when the linchpin of that future can't quite seem to get his act together.

Funny thing is, he can't quite remember what he thought that other life was going to be, these days—what was it he had planned for them, an apartment together, maybe? Ryouta has a hard time picturing it in his head, maybe because what he has now is so very concrete: a house just large enough to come home to, a little bit of slightly unkempt yard, Yukio.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

(But really, though: he hadn't expected the corgis.)

 

**"meeting the rents"  
#Kise is adorable when he's worried about making a good impression**

Yukio tries to tell him that he doesn't need to be so worried, but it doesn't really take. Ryouta spends the days leading up to Sunday dinner a wreck, enough so that Yukio's just glad that he had the foresight to make sure that he told his mother they'd be coming over on one of Ryouta's down weeks. Goodness knows that if Ryouta had to fly this week, he'd probably manage to crash the plane or something. 

Having finally found himself that nice boy Kaasan had been nagging him about settling down with, Yukio isn't particularly interested in seeing him go down in flames. Call him crazy, but he'd rather Ryouta stick around, not least because Kaasan would never let him hear the end of it. 

He doesn't bother trying to talk Ryouta out of wearing a tie. For one, it'll go over well with Tousan. For another, the business of picking out the right tie and shirt combination gives Ryouta something to focus his nerves on. And finally, a tie gives Yukio something to grab onto when Ryouta's fidgeting on the front walk of Yukio's parents' house gets to be excessive. He winds it around his hand and uses it to pull Ryouta down so they're eye to eye. "Stop it," he says, over Ryouta's protests. "You're fine. They're going to love you. I promise."

"But what if they _don't_?" Ryouta protests. 

"They will," Yukio tells him again, because it's true: his parents always have been supportive, right from the start, and he fully believes what his mother told him long ago. ( _Whoever you choose, baby, that's fine by me,_ she'd promised. _I know I'll love him as long as you do._ )

"But—" Ryouta starts, so Yukio takes advantage of his proximity to kiss him, quick and sure.

"It's going to be fine," he says as he lets go of Ryouta's tie. "Now come on, they're probably watching us through the front window."

Ryouta makes a strangled sound as Yukio strides up the sidewalk, probably because there is a certain amount of suspicious movement going on behind the curtains in the front window, but follows after him.

Yukio smiles when Ryouta twines their hands together, holds on, and rings the bell.

 

**Domesticity meme  
#Momoi finds Mitobe very restful**

Dai-chan is convinced that Rinnosuke is actually mute and nothing Satsuki can tell him will persuade him otherwise. But that's Dai-chan for you, all pigheadedness and not afraid to show it. Once he makes up his mind about something it pretty much takes an Act of Tetsu-kun to change it.

It's true that Rinnosuke tends to be quiet, preferring to watch and listen to speaking up. Having met his family—his lovely, exuberant, above all _loud_ family—Satsuki finds this understandable. Sometimes she wants to be quiet, too. Sitting on the couch with Rinnosuke underneath the warm weight of his arm around her shoulders, being quiet comes easy.

 

**2\. AU [ordinary people]  
#from the microfic meme**

They have a class together, history, that's how the group of them initially collide with one another. Goodness knows they're just disparate enough that probably nothing would have brought them together in the ordinary course of things—Kise can't think of anything but the sky and Midorima studies obsessively; Murasakibara is more interested in food than anything else and Akashi is just weird, juggling school and a budding career in shougi as if it wasn't anything at all. Daiki hardly knows what he thinks of these people, so very different from himself, but Satsuki likes them pretty well, which is enough to be going on.

And there's Kuroko, quiet and deceptively earnest, Tetsu who cares more than anyone Daiki has ever met, who has a quiet smile and a profoundly evil sense of humor, and Daiki is in over his head before he even knows how deep those waters run.

 

**Kuroko fussing over Kagami's injuries  
#feels advisory in effect**

It all sounded a lot worse than it really was, though Taiga was having a hard time convincing anyone of that fact. The admitting doctor used a lot of long, complicated words on his chart like _contusions_ and _first and second-degree burns_ and _potential fracture of the scapula_ —whatever. Sounded horrible compared to the reality, which was that he gotten bruised up but good, his shoulder ached like hell, and he was a little scorched at the edges. He'd made it out under his own power, hadn't he? On his own two feet and everything, and there hadn't been anyone left inside, either. (Turned out the kids had been playing over at a neighbor's house, or so Alex had said when she came by the ambulance to check on him. So hey, that was good.)

At any rate, there wasn't any point in keeping him overnight for observations that Taiga could see. They'd slapped some dressings on the burns and put his arm in a sling and fed him just enough painkillers that the ache of his bruises and shoulder had receded to a sort of dull throb in the background of his awareness. Far as he was concerned, he could sit on his own couch and watch shitty television just as well as he could from a hospital bed. More comfortably, too.

Much good it did to point that out, though. The doctor—Midorima Shintarou, according to his nametag—frowned down at him. "We haven't ruled out head trauma yet."

"I didn't get hit on the head," Taiga pointed out, exasperated. "I think I would have noticed that, and besides, I had my gear on and everything."

The doctor didn't seem convinced—he pursed his lips together and looked a lot like he was trying to figure out where to begin, in fact—but they were interrupted before he could get started. "It could have happened _before_ you went back into the burning building _on purpose_ ," Tetsuya said.

Taiga had gotten pretty used to how Tetsuya could just sneak up on people like some kind of ninja and only yelped a little bit. In a just world, the doctor would have been just as startled, but the only thing he did was push the glasses up his nose and transfer his frown from Taiga to Tetsuya. "Kuroko," he said. "You're not supposed to be in here yet."

"I was tired of waiting," Tetsuya said, calm and definitely not in the mood to be flexible if Taiga was any judge. Also, hello, did Tetsuya know this guy?

Apparently so, because Midorima huffed but did not try to eject him from the room. "As I was saying," he said, returning his attention to Taiga. "We have not ruled out the possibility of head trauma and will be keeping you overnight for observation." And that was _that_ , apparently.

"I don't have any head trauma," Taiga muttered, slouching against his pillow, annoyed.

Midorima sniffed. "That remains to be seen." He nodded at Kuroko and swept out of the room.

Taiga made a face at his retreating back and slouched some more, at least until it made his shoulder ache and he had to sit up again. "I don't think I like that guy," he told Tetsuya. "Do you think I can request another doctor?"

Tetsuya didn't answer that. He came away from the door and pulled the visitor's chair over to the bed. He sat on the edge of it, bolt-upright, and there was a pinched, tight look on his face that Taiga didn't much like the looks of. "Midorima is very good at his job."

"Can't say much for his bedside manner," Taiga tried, but that didn't do much good. Tetsuya didn't even look tempted to smile. "So, hey, that guy a friend of yours?"

"We went to school together."

Taiga leaned his head back against his pillow, studying Tetsuya and the flat line of his mouth. Tetsuya looked back, eyes darker than usual, hands folded together on his knee, definitely unhappy. Taiga shifted himself, trying to find a more comfortable position, and said, "It's my job, Tetsuya."

"I know that." Tetsuya's mouth flattened out even more, if it were possible, and he glanced aside. "I know."

"If it hadn't been me, it would have been one of the other guys," Taiga told him, watching the slight flutter of the muscles of Tetsuya's jaw as he set it. "It had to be done." Wasn't as though anyone liked taking risks—well, okay, it wasn't as though _he_ liked taking stupid risks—but when it came right down to it, sometimes there wasn't a choice. Not a choice he could live with making.

Tetsuya's throat bobbed like he was swallowing something. "I know that. Now."

The good thing, if there was a good thing about taking a falling wall to the shoulder, was that Tetsuya was sitting on his good side. "Hey," Taiga said, stretching his hand out to him. "C'mere." He didn't move, not until Tetsuya finally reached back, and then he pulled Tetsuya the rest of the way closer. There wasn't a whole lot of room to spare in his hospital bed, but that didn't matter. Tetsuya was on the slight side, and anyway, Taiga had determination on his side.

Tetsuya settled against him gingerly, like he was afraid that leaning against Taiga was going to hurt him more. Well, it did make his bruises ache a little. So what? Taiga wrapped his arm around Tetsuya anyway. After a moment, Tetsuya began to relax by increments, leaning against his shoulder and sighing very softly.

Taiga squeezed him. "I do my best," he said against Tetsuya's hair, which smelled clean and not like smoke or sweat or the hospital. "I promise, I always do my best. You think you can live with that?" Sometimes, people couldn't. And then, well.

Tetsuya stayed quiet for so long that Taiga was beginning to worry that this time it was going to be _his_ turn to be the guest of honor for a sorry-you-got-dumped bar crawl with the guys. Then Tetsuya sighed again, soft, and reached across him to grip the hand resting in Taiga's sling. "I guess I can," he said. "As long as you don't make a habit of this, okay?"

It hurt to squeeze Tetsuya's fingers, but Taiga didn't let that stop him. "Yeah," he said. "I guess I can do that."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aomine/Kagami, Gun Malfunction

**#euphonious-idolect**  
#Policeman!Aomine, gun malfunction  
#I have a low sense of humor 

Eventually Kagami lifted his mouth away and propped his chin on his hand as he looked up the bed at Daiki. "I hate to tell you this, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to happen tonight."

Daiki covered his eyes with his hand, hot with embarrassment, and groaned. "Oh my god, this has _never_ happened to me before."

He half-expected Kagami to snicker and make a joke—fuck knows that's what he would have done if the situation had been reversed—but Kagami was basically one of the better human beings Daiki had met and didn't say a word. After a bit, the mattress moved under his weight as he moved up the bed and doubled a pillow over. He jammed it between himself and the headboard and leaned back against it, and only then did he say anything. "Think there's a game on. Wanna watch it?"

Sometimes the fact that Kagami was as decent a guy as he was really got under Daiki's skin. "That depends, is it a real game or is it that basketball crap?"

Fucking Kagami just laughed and refused to rise to the bait, just like he didn't seem to be the least bit annoyed that he'd just spent a good half hour trying (and failing) to get a more literal rise out of Daiki. "Basketball _is_ a real game, dumbass." He sounded more fond than anything else. 

"For fuck's sake!" Daiki punched his shoulder and didn't bother pulling it, either. (It was sort of like punching a brick wall.) "Don't you ever get angry?"

Kagami glanced at him and raised his eyebrows. "When there's something worth getting angry about, sure." He rubbed his shoulder and made a face. "You know a reason why I ought to be angry right now?"

Daiki stared at him, stymied. "I hate you so much."

"Sure, sure." Kagami leaned over for the remote. "So, basketball?" He chuckled when Daiki growled at him and turned the television on anyway, and didn't say anything at all after that, not even when Daiki got caught up in the game in spite of himself and yelled at the screen when the Akita blew a three-pointer and Iwata took the game.

(Fuck, sometimes Daiki didn't even know what he saw in that guy.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami, power bottom

**#superhappygenki**   
**#power bottom!Kagami with Aomine and/or Kuroko**   
**#basically Aomine is like a cat and gets into everything**

Sometimes it's easiest when Tetsuya isn't around, to be perfectly honest. Taiga does his best, he really does, but he and Daiki are a lot alike in some things. He can admit that much privately, at least, though it does pain him any time Tetsuya looks at the two of them and remarks on their similarities. The only consolation is that it annoys Daiki at least as much as it does Taiga, probably more. There's a lot more at stake for him, after all. A lot more history there.

So yeah, they're both competitive—stupidly competitive, Tetsuya says, usually rolling his eyes—and maybe Daiki isn't the only one who gets a little bit territorial sometimes. Taiga knows that about himself and does what he can to rein himself in, especially if he's paying attention to what's going on and catches it when Daiki starts to veer off into that place he goes in his head, the one where he forgets that he and Tetsuya have made it all up or the one where he's not quite sure that they _have_ made it up. Taiga doesn't know which it is, exactly, because it's one of those things that Daiki absolutely will not talk about with him. All he's got is a bunch of guesswork and what he's seen of their long, complicated relationship, but that's enough to be going on.

("How can that possibly be enough?" Tatsuya asked him once, over a couple of beers, when Taiga was trying to explain his and Tetsuya's and Daiki's whole thing. "Look, are you sure I shouldn't have an intervention here?" Like _he_ was one to talk.)

But nobody's perfect and sometimes Tetsuya has to give them both a sharp reminder that he's not a prize to be won. It embarrasses Taiga when that happens and he's pretty sure that it terrifies Daiki (who is always on extra-good behavior for days after one of Tetsuya's little reminders) and yeah. Sometimes it's just easier when Tetsuya isn't there. When it's the two of them, there's no vying for his attention, and there's no one there to mediate between the two of them, either. They have to deal with each other directly, which is probably better for them in the long run, Taiga figures... especially now that they've gotten past the brawling stage. Mostly.

(They're probably never going to get completely past that stage; both of them enjoy a good fight too much for it. Taiga has a sneaking suspicion that the only reason Tetsuya disapproves is that there's no good way for him to join in, too. Tetsuya's kind of a firecracker that way, though no one would guess it, looking at him.)

And this way, some things are just easy. Easy to slide his fingers into Daiki's hair and kiss him, pushy, until Daiki pushes back, and easy to wrestle with him until the blankets and sheets are a twisted mess and they're both naked. Easy to pull Daiki against him and kiss him until Daiki forgets to hold back and forgets to be wary of Taiga and just goes for it, which is exactly what Taiga likes. Not that it's bad when Daiki is inclined to be careful or restrained or whatever, but sometimes a guy just wants to be pinned down and pounded into the mattress, and it's a lot simpler to get Daiki go there when it's the two of them. 

Which is not to say that Daiki won't when Tetsuya's in bed with them, but it does tend to go a little differently on those occasions. Tetsuya calls the shots, then, and it's just as hot to have him giving Daiki the order to fuck Taiga silly. It just takes some more maneuvering to get them to that point, is all.

It's also easier after the fact, when it's just the two of them—easy to sprawl out and drowse in the aftermath without having to gentle Daiki back down, and easy to pull Daiki against him before he can get restive and try to retreat, and easy to lull him to sleep so that by the time Tetsuya does come to join them, he can slip into bed against Daiki's back and press close without any fuss at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #aokuro-alldayeveryday  
> #AoKuro, university  
> #Aomine and Momoi are BFFs forever

"I know this is a crazy idea," Satsuki said, late in the evening, "but hear me out anyway. Have you considered actually telling him how you feel?"

Daiki raised his eyes from the last of the beers from Satsuki's fridge and squinted at her. "What do you mean?"

Satsuki did the thing where she looked down her nose at him, just like her mother did when she was feeling particularly disdainful, and held the pose until Daiki had started to squirm. "I mean, have you considered going to Tetsu-kun and telling him that you like him? Using your actual words and everything? I know that this is a really wacky idea and all, but I bet it's so crazy that it might just work."

Daiki did his best to scowl at her, though it was a pretty pointless effort—it never worked on her anyway. "Oh, fine," he said. "I see how it is. I sit here and pour my heart out to you and you're just going to mock me."

"Dai-chan, if I were going to mock you, you'd know it. I would be laughing, for one thing." Satsuki propped her chin on her hand and studied him. "Also, I don't think you've poured your heart out at all." She held up her hand when he started to protest that. "You've talked an awful lot about Tetsu-kun, I'll give you that, and I'm even willing to be convinced that you think he's pretty neat. What's got me confused is the fact that you haven't already asked him out already. This really isn't like you."

The thing was, she really wasn't mocking him; Daiki knew exactly what that did look like, thanks to long experience. That was the problem with having a best friend who'd known him since before he'd ever lost his baby teeth. Satsuki knew him entirely too well.

That didn't mean he was at all inclined to roll over for her that easily. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Dai-chan." That was all she said, but it was enough: there was something about the patient, utterly inflexible way she said it that made it clear that she was going to drag the truth out of him, one way or another, and that she didn't feel particularly inclined to be merciful about it.

Daiki looked away from her and drained the last of the beer from the bottle without really tasting it. "He's different, okay?"

"He's certainly not your usual type, I'll grant you that."

He winced and wished that it hadn't seemed like such a good idea, once upon a time, to team up for their bar crawls and assorted efforts to find appropriate partners for the night. Satsuki really did know more about him than she had any right to, and it wasn't much comfort to know that he probably knew too much about her in return.

She hummed, tapping her fingers against the table while Daiki avoided her gaze by studying the stack of textbooks next to his elbow. "Really, really not your type at all," she remarked, sounding thoughtful about it. "No offense, Dai-chan, but you tend to like them pretty and easy, and the bustier the better. Tetsu-kun isn't really any of those."

"What are you talking about, Tetsu's plenty hot!" Daiki retorted. He only realized that he'd somehow played into her hands when he turned a glare on her and found her smiling at him. "Well, he is."

She just smiled even wider. "You really _do_ like him, don't you?"

Daiki hunched his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest, refusing to dignify that with an answer.

Satsuki laughed and shook her head. "If that's the case, then really, Dai-chan, why haven't you just said something to him already? I've seen you invite people back to your place by flat-out asking them if they want to fuck. How hard can it possibly be for you to go up to Tetsu-kun and say, 'Hey, Tetsu, I don't know if you've noticed me mooning over you or not, but I really like you, you know'?"

He didn't know which was worse, the way she obviously thought that that sounded anything like him, or—"I'm not mooning!"

The look she gave him was full of pity. "Oh, Dai-chan. You just spent the past two hours telling me all the ways in which Tetsu-kun is the most amazing person in the world. You are _so_ mooning over him."

Daiki opened his mouth to protest that, but Satsuki tilted her head at him, as if to dare him to contradict her, and he thought better of it. He grimaced at her, not that it did any good.

"Seriously, Dai-chan." She wasn't quite laughing at him, but she was getting close to it. "It's very simple. You go up to Tetsu and tell him that you like him, and let things take their natural course. What's so hard about that?"

Daiki looked away again and focused on fiddling with the label on his beer bottle, wishing that it hasn't been the last one in the fridge. She was right, of course—objectively speaking, that was all there was to it. All he really had to do was catch Tetsu some afternoon after classes, or maybe some night when they were all out for the weekend, and just _tell him_ , it was just—just—

He scraped his thumbnail along the edge of the label, peeling it off in soggy little shreds. "He's different, okay?"

Satsuki sounded a little gentler when she said, "Different how?"

Daiki refused to look up, even when she reached over and laid a hand on top of his, murmuring his name. She didn't say anything more than that, but it was enough. She wasn't one to give up, not when she'd decided something mattered. Apparently this did.

In retrospect, deciding to give Satsuki a straight answer when she'd asked what was on his mind might have been a mistake.

"It's Tetsu," he said, finally, when Satsuki's quiet had stretched out and out and out some more, past the point of bearing. "I really like him, okay?" Liked Tetsu's quiet, subtle expressions and his wicked sense of humor and the way Tetsu didn't know the meaning of the word _surrender_. 

"That's not an answer," Satsuki said, or started to say, but she stopped herself. Daiki could feel her watching him, putting the pieces together; when it all clicked, she squeezed his hand. "That's what makes him different, huh? This time it actually matters."

"I guess," Daiki muttered. 

She squeezed his hand again. "That's why you're going to have to say something, you know." Sympathetic as she sounded, she also sounded absolutely determined. When Daiki peeked at her, she was smiling again, soft and fond. "If he's that important, he deserves to have you tell him, don't you think?"

Daiki made a face at her. "I hate it when you make sense."

"Lies." She reached over and ruffled his hair. "You love it when I make sense. Saves you the effort of figuring things out for yourself."

He grumbled at her, batting at her hand, for all the good that did him. "Do you really think I have to?"

"I don't think Tetsu-kun is just going to throw himself into your bed if you don't," she said. "Use your words, Dai-chan. I think you'll be surprised at how well it all works out in the end."

"If this goes badly, I'm going to blame it on you," he warned her.

Satsuki smiled at him, her eyes dancing. "That's a risk I'm willing to take, Dai-chan. Don't worry. I'm sure it will work out just fine."

When events ultimately proved that she was right, she just smiled at the way Tetsu's hand fit in Daiki's and murmured, "I told you so," and that was all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #branch-and-root  
> #Ordinary People: how cuddling works now  
> #BEWARE OF FEELS

So the first get-together after the three of them worked out their arrangement? Yeah, it was weird and kind of awkward. Not that Daiki really figured it was going to be anything _but_ , all things considered. He braced himself for it, but even so, he wasn't quite prepared for the way Satsuki _looked_ at the three of them when they came in together, him on one side of Tetsu and Kagami on the other. She hadn't said much about it since Daiki'd tried to explain it to her the other day, and he'd hoped that her silence had meant that she'd reconciled herself to the idea.

So much for that.

It wasn't like Daiki hadn't had a lot of practice in pretending to be perfectly oblivious, so he put it to good use and greeted her like everything was normal, stuck his contribution to the evening's festivities in the fridge, and immediately jumped into the friendly wrangle over what kind of takeout to order. What, Satsuki was gnawing on her lower lip and looking worried? Naw, he hadn't noticed that at all. Hadn't noticed Midorima giving him the hairy eyeball, either, or the fact that Kise was conspicuously absent, or the fact that even Mitobe seemed to be a little nonplussed when he looked at the three of them. Way he figured it, all they had to do was go along with it for a little while, and eventually it would become the new normal. They just had to get there first, preferably without talking about it.

Naturally, it was Midorima who raised his eyebrows when Tetsu claimed one end of the couch and settled himself right between Daiki and Kagami, fitting himself right into the curve of Daiki's body and letting Kagami slouch against him and drape a casual hand over his knee. (Daiki thought that maybe the three of them shouldn't have fit together quite so easily, but fucked if he was going to question it. He wasn't _stupid_ and he knew perfectly well that it was a really bad idea to look gift horses in the mouth.) "I can't make up my mind," Midorima said after looking them over. "Kuroko, are you crazy? Or just masochistic?"

Tetsu probably felt the way Daiki froze at the blunt question—fuck, Kagami probably noticed, too—but he didn't say anything about that. Instead he leveled one of his calmest expressions on Midorima, the one that signaled that he was _deeply annoyed_ , and said, "No, I don't believe so. If I were inclined to describe myself at all— _which I am not_ —I would simply say that I am very lucky."

For a moment, Daiki thought that that would have frozen even Midorima to the bone. Then Midorima snorted. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Well, no one could say that Midorima didn't have big brass ones.

"It's what I'm calling it," Tetsu said, still perfectly calm, before transferring his attention to Satsuki. "Have we left you and Mitobe-san enough room?"

Satsuki was a little slower to answer than usual, probably because she was looking at Tetsu, considering him maybe. "It's fine, Tetsu-kun," she said at last.

"That's good." Tetsu deliberately snuggled himself down between Daiki and Kagami—there was no other way to describe the little wriggle of it as he wormed himself deeper into the space between them but that—and smiled calmly at them all. "Should we start the movie now, or wait until after the food arrives?"

Midorima snorted again, shaking his head just a bit. "May as well start it up," he said. "If only to keep you from snapping at people."

Tetsu gave him a long, steady look. "You know, I tell my students that they shouldn't start anything that they aren't willing to deal with all the way to the end." He paused, just long enough for that to sink in. "Perhaps you should consider that."

"Okay!" Satsuki said, too loud and bright, bouncing to her feet. "I think I need a drink. Does anyone else want a drink while I'm up?"

"Yeah," Daiki said, while Midorima and Tetsu tried to stare each other down. "That would be great, Satsuki, if you don't mind?"

"No trouble at all, Dai-chan!" She made inquiring noises at Mitobe and Kagami, too, and then said, "Midorin, would you mind giving me a hand?"

It was pretty much the exact opposite of _subtle_ , but whatever. It worked to break the deadlock and Midorima only grumbled a little as he pried himself out of the armchair to go lend Satsuki a hand in the kitchen.

Daiki let out a slow breath then as some of the edged tension melted out of the air. "Tetsu—"

He didn't really know what to say—what he wanted to say, because this was—Tetsu had been the one who'd kept up all his friendships, inexplicable as they sometimes were.

Tetsu seemed to get it anyway, because he smiled at him, small, a bit rueful. "It's all right," he said. "I thought this would happen." He slipped his fingers between Daiki's and set his other hand over Kagami's. "We'll just have to be patient while everyone adjusts."

Kagami huffed a soft laugh at that, amused. "And while you refuse to budge an inch."

Tetsu's smile was serene. "Naturally," he agreed, and tugged Kagami a little closer, snuggling in and making himself comfortable between them. "I already have what I want."

And really, what could anyone say in the face of that?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #whitnerded  
> #Ordinary People: Midorima and Takao  
> #Beware of Feels

It takes a while to happen, but eventually Shin-chan winds down and runs out of steam. Not even he can rant forever, though it's certainly not for lack of trying. He trails off in one last discontented complaint ("It's not like I didn't know Aomine had the morals of a cat, but I honestly did think better of Kuroko than this") and drains his coffee. It must be stone cold by now, but Shin-chan doesn't even grimace. That's the nice thing about medical school: it trains all the pickiness out of a person, at least as far as caffeine delivery methods go. By the time they'd finished up clinic training and the certification exams, not even Shin-chan could be fussy about his coffee. He's tried to pick up the habit again, but he forgets to be finicky when he's not paying attention or when he's focused on other things.

Kazunari is saving up pointing this out for a special occasion, like maybe the next time Shin-chan gets particularly hoity-toity with the nurses. They'll appreciate the show, and it'll postpone the day one of them tries to strangle Shin-chan with his own stethoscope.

For now he shakes his head over the latest installment of the Love Quadrilateral of Doom story—sometimes he thinks about writing up a summary of it and submitting a proposal to a publisher or a television station or something, because it's just that ridiculous—and grins at Shin-chan. "Have I ever told you that your friends are a hot mess?"

"Frequently."

Kazunari can't help grinning at the arid note in Shin-chan's voice. "Well, it's still true."

Shin-chan huffs. "I suppose I can't dispute that."

"Oh, please. You could have an argument with a blank wall if you wanted to." Although to be perfectly fair, that had been in the lead-up to exams. It was amazing what happened to the human nervous system after four days of barely sleeping. Kazunari's only real regret was that he'd been too strung out himself to manage to work the video camera in time to catch the best bits of the one-sided argument.

Shin-chan gives him a dirty look. "I told you never to speak of that again."

"Sorry," Kazunari tells him, though he's not sorry at all, which Shin-chan knows perfectly well. He switches tacks now that Shin-chan has gotten the immediate reaction out of his system. "So what's really bugging you about this? You already knew this was going to end in disaster." He hasn't known Aomine for as long as he's known the rest of Shin-chan's friends, sure, but it's not like the guy is _subtle_ or anything. Admittedly, this ménage à trois thing was not the resolution that Kazunari was expecting, but there's a reason he thinks of the whole thing as the Love Quadrilateral of Doom—someone was bound to end up hurt in the end.

Shin-chan sets his jaw, mulish, and doesn't answer. 

Kazunari checks the time and decides that yeah, he has enough time to have another cup of coffee and maybe also unravel this before he heads off for his graveyard shift at the hospital. He thinks about it as he pours himself a refill and gestures with the coffeepot—Shin-chan shakes his head, no, to the silent question. The ebb and flow of Shin-chan's outrages usually have a rhythm, if a person knows how to listen for it. This time, most of Shin-chan's complaint had focused on the selfishness of Aomine's decision, more than anything else. How hurtful it is.

Kise's name hadn't come up much at all, which said more than anything else, really.

He settles back in his seat and regards Shin-chan over the rim of his coffee cup, thinking. The thing is, Shin-chan is loyal. He's also terribly reserved and not particularly great at making friends, which is sometimes hilarious and sometimes anything but, so he sticks close to the friends he does have. Kise's one of the oldest friends Shin-chan has.

Yeah, Kazunari doesn't have to wonder why Shin-chan's so pissed after all. 

His coffee cup clicks against the table when he sets it down; Shin-chan glances at him, his mouth still tight. Kazunari selects his words with care, because this is important and he wants to get it right. Shin-chan deserves no less. "They're all adults, you know." Technically, anyway. "I'm pretty sure they knew what they were getting into." He waits until Shin-chan gets the snorting out of his system and adds, as gently as he knows how, "Not everyone gets a happy ending, Shin-chan. You know that." Not that any of them are anywhere close to endings—they're not even thirty yet, for pity's sake, and barring catastrophe they're all a long way away from any kind of ending—but focus on the micro level for now and leave the macro for later.

Eventually Shin-chan kind of sighs a little. "They could at least _pretend_ to be sorry about it."

There's a lot of things Kazunari could say to that, things like _Who says they're not?_ or maybe _But didn't any of you_ see _the way Aomine looked at Kuroko, how could you not know what was coming_ or maybe just _Who knows, maybe they'll work out a foursome_. But he leaves it alone, at least as much as he can, and finishes his coffee. "I'd better get going," he says, standing again and rinsing his cup out in the sink. "Don't want to be late and give Miyaji another reason to ride my ass, right?" He stoops over Shin-chan and steals a kiss from him, quick and coffee-flavored. "That's your exclusive prerogative."

Shin-chan grimaces, but he can't fool Kazunari—he knows that expression for exactly what it is, which is Shin-chan refusing to smile even though he wants to. "Don't be vulgar."

Kazunari ruffles his fingers through Shin-chan's hair. "You know you love it."

"I know no such thing."

He really does need to head out the door, but Kazunari treats himself to another kiss just for that, lingering over it until Shin-chan softens and sways closer, relaxing into the slow intimate stroke of Kazunari's tongue against his. He regrets having to pull away from that and gives an earnest second's thought to calling in for the night—but no, Miyaji really will hunt him down and kill him if he does that. Shin-chan looks less broody, though, so there's that. "Hold on to that thought, mmkay? And I'll see you in the morning."

"Don't forget to pick up breakfast," Shin-chan tells him.

"Forget one time and he never lets you hear the end of it," Kazunari says, laughing, and ruffles Shin-chan's hair one last time on his way to the door. "Later, Shin-chan."

"Try not to kill anyone," Shin-chan says, which is his idea of an affectionate farewell and probably also Exhibit A for why he has such an intimate circle of friends. It takes a certain kind of personality to understand and appreciate Shin-chan.

It is kind of a shame about Kise, of course, but it's also early days yet. If he's learned anything from hanging out with Shin-chan's friends, it's that there's no telling what they'll do next. 

Kazunari reflects on that and laughs to himself. Maybe he _will_ write up some kind of pitch and submit it somewhere; there must be other people out there who'd enjoy this ongoing melodrama.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **#kiseryotas**   
> **#Ordinary People: MidoTaka, the game of looking and not touching**   
> **#BEWARE OF FEELS**

"Don't you think you're being ridiculous?" Shintarou asks. Try as he might, he can't help the way his voice rasps over the question.

" _I'm_ being ridiculous? Oh, Shin-chan." Kazunari shakes his head, pity in every slow movement. "Not to descend to the level of the schoolyard here or anything, but if we're going to talk about people being ridiculous, all I can say is that you started it."

There's a bead of sweat working its way down Kazunari's throat; it catches and pools in the hollow between his clavicles as Kazunari lifts his chin and sighs out a breath from between parted lips. Shintarou licks his lips and tells himself to look away as sternly as he can—there is no good to be found in indulging Kazunari's freaks—but he can't bring himself to do it. He doesn't even know _how_ Kazunari manages to have this kind of effect on him, but Kazunari contrives it somehow. Admittedly, just now it probably has something to do with the way Kazunari is kneeling astride him, naked as the day he was born, with his hand wrapped around his own cock. 

Kazunari passes his fingers up and down his cock again, throwing in a little twist and flourish of his wrist that makes him hum, low and open. Shintarou is intimately familiar with that satisfied little sound and has even made a modest survey of all the ways to elicit it. He has to wet his lips again while he tries to reassemble the scattered lines of his thoughts. "What do you mean, _I_ started it?" It certainly wasn't his idea to let Kazunari fasten his hands down or for Kazunari to climb on top of him to make such a wanton display of himself once he'd had Shintarou well and truly at his mercy. That was all Kazunari—as usual.

Kazunari continues to jerk himself off slowly, breathing deep and even and uttering those small, satisfied sounds, just barely louder than the quiet, obscene sounds of flesh sliding over flesh. "Oh, you definitely started it, Shin-chan." He smiles down at Shintarou and changes the pitch of his voice. "Not _now_ , this is more important," he sing-songs.

Shintarou recognizes that tone as Kazunari's approximation of his voice and frowns, trying to think of what Kazunari is driving at. This is difficult to do when what he really wants is to stroke his tongue over the hollow of Kazunari's throat and kiss his way down his chest and stomach before pinning Kazunari's hips to the bed and lapping the slick of precome from the head of his cock. "What...?" It comes to him slowly—he'd said something like that earlier in the evening, when Kazunari had interrupted his review of the nervous system to nibble on his ear and suggest they go to bed. "I was _studying_."

"It's Saturday night, and school is out for the next two weeks," Kazunari retorts, his smile edged. "And we've talked about this." He leans forward then, until they are nose to nose and Shintarou can feel the soft brush of Kazunari's cock sliding against his chest, wet and hot. "Remember that? When you promised that you weren't going to let yourself forget I exist?" He traces a finger along Shintarou's lower lip and smiles again; when Shintarou follows it with the tip of his tongue, he tastes salt and flat and shivers with the way heat twists in the pit of his stomach. "Consider this a friendly reminder."

Ah. Yes. _That_ talk, the _I'm your_ boyfriend _, not a toy you take out of the box and play with when it suits you_ talk, the one that had come when Kazunari had been on the verge of walking out. Shintarou swallows hard. "I'm paying attention."

"Good." When Kazunari sits up again, he has the lube in his hands and is busy slicking his fingers. As Shintarou watches, he reaches back and arches a little over him, hissing softly. Shintarou can't see what he's doing, precisely, but he can imagine it all too well—Kazunari pressing his own fingers into himself, sinking them as deep as he can and sliding them in and out of himself. His expression goes distant as he does this, and he catches his lip between his teeth as he begins to move over Shintarou, arching his back and making quiet sounds in his throat to go with the wet sounds of him fucking himself on his fingers. "The thing is, the studying—it's not something I mind," he says presently, low and breathless. "I know all about the studying, even if I do think it's crazy not to take at least the first day of a vacation off." He's beginning to rock his hips now, moving with the stroke of his fingers and panting; the words tumble from his lips in breathless spurts. He's so gorgeous that it hurts a little to watch him. "It's the part where you look through me like you don't even see me standing there. That's hurtful, Shin-chan, it really is."

He might be smiling as he says it, but that's Kazunari's way. He smiles through even his most serious truths. Whatever else Shintarou can say for himself, he's learned at least that much. "I see you now."

"I should hope so," Kazunari tells him, but the edges of his smile soften some at that. "And just think, if you'd been paying attention earlier, you could be inside me right now." He shudders then, groaning as he does something that Shintarou can't see, and it underlines and punctuates his point with excruciating clarity.

Shintarou groans too, aching with the way he's tied down and pinned beneath Kazunari's weight, helpless to do anything about it. "Kazunari," he breathes, staring up at him. "Kazunari, _please_..."

Kazunari shudders and goes taut over him, groaning again as he comes all over Shintarou's chest and stomach. Shintarou's breath catches in his throat with how Kazunari looks like this, his throat gleaming and pale when he throws his head back, and the clear, bright look on his face as his pleasure sweeps through him. It's almost enough just to see Kazunari like this, to watch him come undone and listen to the sounds he makes as he does, and Shintarou can't help the way he pulls against the restraints and Kazunari's weight, desperate for anything that will let him reach that edge and follow after Kazunari.

Kazunari settles in time to hear the frustrated sound that Shintarou makes when he can't find enough purchase to bring himself off. He leans over Shintarou, panting and flushed. "Have I made my point?"

There are times to stand on one's dignity, but this is not one of them. " _Yes_ ," Shintarou says, meaning it devoutly. "Kazunari..."

He is not expecting the way Kazunari leans down to kiss him, or the way Kazunari shifts over him, reaching for Shintarou's cock and guiding it against himself. Their groans mingle together as Kazunari sinks down on him, hot and incredibly tight, and Shintarou trembles beneath him, panting for breath against the way raw sensation sings through him, already almost more than he can bear. Kazunari balances himself over him and barely moves, grinding against him slowly, and the weight of him keeps Shintarou from being able to rock up into him. He watches Shintarou, his eyes all but glowing as Shintarou gasps and groans beneath him, and he smiles when the thread of Shintarou's desperation finally snaps. Shintarou comes hard enough that he can't make any sound at all as pleasure tears through him, long aching shudders that leave Shintarou feeling almost bruised after they finally cease.

Kazunari bends over him while he's still breathing hard and kisses him again, and if Shintarou tries to put his apology into the movement of his lips against Kazunari's, then Kazunari tastes like forgiveness. Kazunari releases his hands while they're still kissing and hums against his mouth when Shintarou settles them against his back. Shintarou hums back, and after that, there is nothing more to be said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **#randommemorylog**   
> **#Ordinary People: Aomine/Kuroko/Kagami, the first time Kuroko and Kagami doubleteam Aomine**   
> **#BEWARE OF FEELS**

Daiki has no idea how he gets himself into these situations, really he doesn't. They just seem to happen to him somehow, and that's all there is to it.

(This is a lie: Daiki knows perfectly well how this came about, and his name is Kuroko Tetsuya. Like Satsuki, all Tetsu has to do is ask—or hint loudly—and Daiki knuckles under. He's just lucky that neither of them uses that power for evil—much.)

"I don't know why I'm doing this," he mutters, pressing his forehead against Tetsu's shoulder and trying not to tense when Kagami strokes his hands down his sides and over his hips. He's been doing that for a while now, just running his hands up and down Daiki's back. Fuck knows what he thinks he's going to accomplish by it, though at this point Daiki could probably identify every callus on the guy's hands while blindfolded.

Tetsu doesn't say anything at all, but he tightens his fingers against Daiki's nape and rubs his thumb against Daiki's hairline. The slow back and forth of it plucks at Daiki's nerves, though he'd rather die than admit to the fact that this is working for him on at least one level. Not that Tetsu could miss how hard he is, really.

Kagami doesn't say anything either, but he runs his hands down Daiki's back again and curves them around his ass, and at last, _finally_ , they're going to get on with it—no. Apparently not. Kagami just starts kneading, working his hands against Daiki's ass like he thinks he's some kind of massage therapist.

Daiki loses the last of his patience. "What the fuck are you waiting for? Would you just get on with it already?"

Kagami doesn't even miss a beat and squeezes his ass again; Daiki gets the distinct impression that he and Tetsu are doing that thing where they commune silently over his head. "Pushy," Kagami says after a moment or two of this, and the asshole just sounds _fond_ about it. 

Daiki could just about scream with frustration, because he _hates_ when Kagami uses that tone on him. It runs counter to everything that an orderly, just universe ought to permit.

Kagami tightens his grip before Daiki can do more than draw a breath and spreads him open, and _finally—_

The first touch of Kagami's tongue punches the air right out of his lungs. Daiki flinches away from the wet, intimate slide of it, or tries to. Kagami has a firm hold on him and Tetsu still has an arm around him and a hand on his nape; there's not really anywhere he can go, not when he's caught and held between the two of them like this. "Fuck!" he gasps when Kagami does it again, holding him spread open for the indescribably obscene lick of his tongue and the feel of his breath against Daiki's skin. The intimacy of it jolts him free of his moorings and everything he'd thought to expect when he'd finally agreed to this threesome, so sure that he and Kagami were both doing it to humor Tetsu. "Fuck—fuck, what are you _doing_?"

Kagami doesn't answer him, not with words, but he licks against Daiki, soft-wet-firm, licks _into_ him, and he makes a sound as he does it that's like the rumble of a pleased cat. Daiki has heard him make that very sound with Tetsu—or overheard it, anyway—and the only sense he can make of it when he's gone all light-headed from panting with the rush of sensation is that Kagami is actually into this. Kagami is acting like this isn't about Tetsu at all.

The thought rocks him and he trembles, even after Tetsu tightens his arm around him and strokes his hair, murmuring to him, _yes_ and _it's all right_ and _we have you, Daiki_. It's the perfect assurance of that last, the possessive _we_ of it, that finally undoes him. Daiki groans as everything he knows dissolves beneath Kagami's gentle onslaught and Tetsu's reassurances, shaking between them as he goes to pieces.

They're still holding him when the storm passes. When he's ready for it, they both help him to put himself back together again, though maybe not quite the same as he was before.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **#wakamiyashinobu**   
> **#Ordinary People: Kise and Kasamatsu, getting what you want after all this time**   
> **#BEWARE OF FEELS #OMG SERIOUSLY #WATCH OUT FOR THE GODDAMN FEELS**

There was a time when Ryouta knew, or thought he knew, exactly what he wanted out of his life: the sky stretching out before him, endless as eternity itself; and the chance to follow the wind wherever it went and see the world moving beneath his wings, distant enough that all its imperfections became invisible and its beauty could shine forth; and someone to return to when he grew tired of the stretch of the sky and the sight of strange horizons who would welcome him home and be ready to hear of all the wonders he'd seen.

There for a while, he'd thought that the last of those things was the product of too much daydreaming when he'd been too young to know the difference between the fantasies in movies and the cold truth of reality. Wanting things like that was what came of wishful thinking and was the root of a lot of pointless suffering, so Ryouta closed that chapter of his life with a resolute hand. He still had the sky and the way the world looked from thirty thousand feet up; a man who had those was wealthy indeed. 

Ryouta told himself this over and over and convinced himself that he believed it and that he was happy. He _was_ happy once he'd gotten enough distance between himself and his biggest mistake and the hurt of it had finally healed over—how could he not be when he kept himself busy and made friends wherever he went and was a good enough pilot that he could command his own salary wherever he went? He was on the top of his world and anyone who _wasn't_ happy with all that just had to be an idiot.

"Not just an idiot," Yukio said after Ryouta had explained all of this to him, unfolding it for him like a chart and slowly surrendering each of the keys to decode it. "The world's _biggest_ idiot, I swear."

When it came to Yukio, a lot depended on _how_ he said the things he did. That could have been gruff and impatient, but it wasn't. Maybe it was a little bit exasperated, but then, exasperation was pretty much Yukio's ground state of being. Besides, the hand he had cradling Ryouta's head against his chest was gentle, and so was the way he was circling his thumb against Ryouta's palm. "I swear that you are the hottest mess I have ever met."

"Someday I am going to introduce you to a guy I used to know," Ryouta told him. "And you are going to eat those words."

Yukio snorted as though he didn't believe this, but Ryouta didn't mind that. Aomine was the kind of guy that was impossible to believe was real, even after meeting him. Sometimes he could almost think he'd hallucinated the whole thing, if not for the tactful gaps in his conversations with Midorima and in the occasional phone calls from Momoi, the moments where the two of them carefully routed the subject around the places that would have been marked _here be dragons_ if their conversations were maps. It was kind of them to make the effort, though Ryouta could almost supply the things they didn't tell him from the shapes of their silences.

Yukio sighed and flicked his ear, just firmly enough to get his attention. "Whatever it is you're thinking about, knock it off. You're dwelling again."

"I'm not dwelling!" Ryouta protested, laughing a little.

"Don't bullshit me." Yukio flicked him again. "I can tell when you're dwelling, and you were definitely dwelling just then."

The really startling thing about Yukio was that he really _didn't_ want to be bullshitted, which was something of a novelty in Ryouta's experience. "...there's a lot to dwell on," he said after a moment. "Sorry."

Yukio threaded his fingers through Ryouta's hair, stroking it. "You don't have to apologize," he said presently. "You can dwell on what you want, I guess. Not really my place to stop you."

Ryouta was good at hearing the gaps and places where people weren’t saying things even though they wanted to, and Yukio had left something unsaid just then. "But...?"

"...I don't like seeing you make yourself unhappy."

Ryouta frowned and lifted his head so he could actually look at Yukio, who met his eyes steadily. "Do you think I'm unhappy?" he asked, surprised. 

Yukio didn't hesitate. "When you're thinking about that guy, yeah, you are." He slid his hand down and squeezed the back of Ryouta's neck. "I know I'm not—"

Ryouta knew— _knew_ —how he was going to finish that sentence and refused to allow it, so he stopped Yukio by the most direct route possible. Yukio grumbled against his mouth, inarticulate, which only permitted Ryouta to slip his tongue past his lips. Yukio tightened his fingers against Ryouta's nape and kissed back, loosening his grip on Ryouta's hand to wind his arm around him instead. He shifted closer willingly, fitting himself against Yukio's frame, warm and so pleasingly sturdy beneath him, and poured himself into the business of kissing Yukio breathless, until their mouths were tender and swollen with it and they were both rousing again. Yukio groaned beneath him, running his hands down Ryouta's back and closing them on his ass, gripping it when Ryouta pressed against him, spreading his thighs across Yukio's and rubbing against him. Yukio groaned again, pulling away from his mouth. "What do you think you are, some kind of teenager?" he demanded, breathless.

"You're hard too," Ryouta retorted, kissing the underside of his jaw and rolling his hips against Yukio's to demonstrate the point. He traced his lips along Yukio's jaw and nuzzled against his ear. "Don't you _want_ to fuck me some more?"

Yukio groaned again and Ryouta _felt_ the way his cock jumped between them. "You are going to kill me," he said, but he was reaching away to slick his fingers anyway.

Ryouta kissed the corner of his jaw, sucking on it. "There are worse ways to go," he said, right before Yukio pushed slick fingers into him, opening him up again. He groaned, rocking back against the sweet-sharp stretch in his muscles, savoring the way they ached pleasantly around Yukio's fingers and how his cock throbbed in time to the beat of his pulse, which jumped every time Yukio drove his fingers deeper. "Fuck, Yukio..."

"Yeah," Yukio breathed, low and breathless. "Yeah, c'mon..." He drew his fingers out of Ryouta and nudged at him until Ryouta lifted himself up, letting Yukio position him until he could feel the head of Yukio's cock nudging against him and could press himself down on it, groaning with the first burning stretch of it. Yukio pulled him down, kissing him again as Ryouta settled against him, his muscles trembling, and kneaded a hand against his back, relaxing him into it. "I've got you," he murmured, shaping the words against Ryouta's mouth. "I've got you, Ryouta."

"Yeah," Ryouta said, bracing himself over Yukio. "I know you do." He fanned his fingers against Yukio's jaw and kissed him again as he began to move, fucking himself on Yukio's cock and groaning against his mouth with the way each slow roll of his hips made sensation twist through him, groaning with the way Yukio slid his hands down to hold his hips, steadying him and guiding the slow grind of their bodies together. Yukio groaned too, low and deep, lifting his hips up to drive himself deeper into Ryouta. Each long, slow thrust caused Ryouta's cock to slide against Yukio's stomach, until he was trembling with the way the build of pleasure had him hovering on the verge of coming again. "Yukio," he gasped, desperate, " _Yukio_..." When Yukio shifted a hand from his hip and clasped it around him, Ryouta cried out, shaking at the sudden firm pressure of his grip. He rocked himself down onto Yukio's cock, hard and fast, and Yukio gasped into his mouth, stroking his fist over Ryouta until Ryouta tensed, pleasure breaking over him like a cloudburst, sudden and so wild that it stopped the breath in his throat as he striped Yukio's belly with his come. Yukio groaned beneath him, bucking up against him and fucking him through the way Ryouta's body tightened around him. Each hard thrust shook Ryouta with another burst of raw sensation, until Yukio shouted, arching beneath Ryouta as he came, his expression swept open and blank with his pleasure.

Ryouta leaned over him, muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself up, and watched Yukio sprawl against his pillow, going lax as he came down from the edge again, eyes closed and his lips parted as he panted for breath. When Yukio finally opened his eyes again, that was when Ryouta said, soft, "I don't want you to be him. If I'm unhappy when I think about him, it's because I spent five goddamn years of my life, and then some, wanting to have something like what I've got with you right now with him and not realizing that it wasn't going to happen, not with him like he was and me like I was." Kuroko had tried to tell him that, once, but back then Ryouta hadn't wanted to hear it, which was just too bad all around.

Yukio stared up at him, eyes gone wide and startled. "Ryouta..." he said, softly, almost uncertain.

Ryouta cupped his face between his palms, stroking his cheek. "I'm not unhappy with you," he said. "I am the very opposite of unhappy with you, and I wouldn't trade you for him. Not for the world. When I'm with you, I’m home. Do you understand? I'm _home_." 

Yukio reached up to him and drew him down, gathering him close, and kissed him, mouth soft against Ryouta's. "Then welcome home," he said, murmuring the words against Ryouta's lips, and caught him when Ryouta pressed himself even closer.


End file.
